September 7 - Morning"And when they could not come nigh unto Him for the press, they uncovered the roof where he was: and when they had broken it up, they let down the bed wherein the sick of the palsy lay." — Mark 2:4
Faith is full of inventions. The house was full, a crowd blocked up the
door, but faith found a way of getting at the Lord and placing the palsied
man before Him. If we cannot get sinners where Jesus is by ordinary
methods we must use extraordinary ones. It seems, according to Luke 5:19,
that a tiling had to be removed, which would make dust and cause a
measure of danger to those below, but where the case is very urgent we
must not mind running some risks and shocking some proprieties.
Jesus was there to heal, and therefore fall what might, faith ventured all so that
her poor paralyzed charge might have his sins forgiven. O that we had
more daring faith among us! Cannot we, dear reader, seek it this morning
for ourselves and for our fellow-workers, and will we not try to-day to
perform some gallant act for the love of souls and the glory of the Lord.
The world is constantly inventing; genius serves all the purposes of human
desire: cannot faith invent too, and reach by some new means the outcasts
who lie perishing around us?
It was the presence of Jesus which excited
victorious courage in the four bearers of the palsied man: is not the Lord
among us now? Have we seen His face for ourselves this morning? Have
we felt His healing power in our own souls? If so, then through door,
through window, or through roof, let us, breaking through all impediments,
labour to bring poor souls to Jesus. All means are good and decorous when
faith and love are truly set on winning souls. If hunger for bread can break
through stone walls, surely hunger for souls is not to be hindered in its
efforts. O Lord, make us quick to suggest methods of reaching Thy poor
sin-sick ones, and bold to carry them out at all hazards. September 7 - Evening"There is sorrow on the sea; it cannot be quiet." — Jeremiah 49:23
Little know we what sorrow may be upon the sea at this moment. We are
safe in our quiet chamber, but far away on the salt sea the hurricane may
be cruelly seeking for the lives of men. Hear how the death fiends howl
among the cordage; how every timber starts as the waves beat like
battering rams upon the vessel! God help you, poor drenched and wearied
ones! My prayer goes up to the great Lord of sea and land, that He will
make the storm a calm, and bring you to your desired haven! Nor ought I
to offer prayer alone, I should try to benefit those hardy men who risk
their lives so constantly. Have I ever done anything for them? What can I
do? How often does the boisterous sea swallow up the mariner!
Thousands of corpses lie where pearls lie deep. There is death-sorrow on
the sea, which is echoed in the long wail of widows and orphans. The salt
of the sea is in many eyes of mothers and wives. Remorseless billows, ye
have devoured the love of women, and the stay of households. What a
resurrection shall there be from the caverns of the deep when the sea gives
up her dead! Till then there will be sorrow on the sea. As if in sympathy
with the woes of earth, the sea is for ever fretting along a thousand shores,
wailing with a sorrowful cry like her own birds, booming with a hollow
crash of unrest, raving with uproarious discontent, chafing with hoarse
wrath, or jangling with the voices of ten thousand murmuring pebbles.
The
roar of the sea may be joyous to a rejoicing spirit, but to the son of sorrow
the wide, wide ocean is even more forlorn than the wide, wide world. This
is not our rest, and the restless billows tell us so. There is a land where
there is no more sea — our faces are steadfastly set towards it; we are
going to the place of which the Lord hath spoken. Till then, we cast our
sorrows on the Lord who trod the sea of old, and who maketh a way for
His people through the depths thereof. September 7 |